Bayard Taylor

There's a pang in all rejoicing,
And a joy in the heart of pain;
And the wind read more

There's a pang in all rejoicing,
And a joy in the heart of pain;
And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy's bonfire spread.

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy's bonfire spread.

Pansies in soft April rains
Fill their stalks with honeyed sap
Drawn from Earth's prolific lap.

Pansies in soft April rains
Fill their stalks with honeyed sap
Drawn from Earth's prolific lap.

Higher than the perfect song
For which love longeth,
Is the tender fear of wrong,
read more

Higher than the perfect song
For which love longeth,
Is the tender fear of wrong,
That never wrongeth.